


Rekindling

by Nour386



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Second Person, Super Villain AU, super hero AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nour386/pseuds/Nour386
Summary: Ma Pines would really like to enjoy her retirement from being a full time super hero. however when 'trouble' from an old enemy is sent to her front door. she has to get the the bottom of who sold her out. She never expected her son to join the other side.





	Rekindling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeidiMelone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiMelone/gifts), [mythomagicallydelicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/gifts).



> This was inspired by the amazing stories [Farmer's Market]() and [After the Farmer's Market]() by mythomagicallydelicious and Thelastspeecher respectively. I also had inspiration form a post of SPeecher's where xey mentioned that Angie would send 'trouble' round Ma's way in xier Superhero/Villian au.

You were retired. You picked up your old job as a phone psychic as a way to fill in your free time. And for a good long while you hoped it would stay that way. However, when someone sends a small gang of goons to your front door, you tend to want to make sure that isn’t a repeat occurrence. This goes doubly so after a quick check of their minds informs you they were sent by your supposedly retired arch-nemesis and infamous villain, Sirocco.

You gave a weak story about a failed mugging to explain why the officer at your door had a paddy wagon full of unconscious ruffians. If you had been anyone else the officer would have been more suspicious. However, with a quick peek into his mind and some minor meddling you’re able to convince him that you had been fighting tooth and nail for your life. You considered the possibility that you may have overdone your mind trick on the poor officer when he burst into tears. But you had more important matters to worry about right now.

You needed to find who sold you out.

Your ex-husband was your first guess. Normally you would have stayed in your car and read his mind from outside his own home. But his mind was nothing but a scrambled mess. Trying to read him in that state would have been like trying to untangle three sets of christmas lights. So in the spirit of not wasting time, you decided to take a more direct approach. With a resigned sigh you got out of your car and walked passed his unkempt front lawn to his front door. The paint was peeling off of it, as though it hadn’t been cared for in years.

You pressed the doorbell. No response.

You pressed the doorbell again. Still nothing.

You closed your eyes and reached out using your mind. You could feel the scrambled mess of your ex-husband’s thoughts. It felt as though you had cast out a net into the sea, and his mind was one of the nearest fish to be tangled in it. You could feel the mind of neighbor next door as well as the rowdy dog in their front lawn.

You knocked on the door. Some paint fell off. After being met with another pang of silence you decided that you weren’t waiting anymore.

“Filbrick you drunk ass! Get out here!” You knocked on the door violently.

You continued to knock for a good couple of minutes. Enough for the neighbor to give you an odd look through her window. You heard a crash and fumble from the other side of the door, followed by the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked. And then the jumble that was your ex-husband’s mind became legible. Unfortunately he wasn’t legible enough for you to clearly read his memories. If anything he had gone from three tangled sets of christmas lights to two.

‘Dammit I paid those money grubbers back last week,’ his thoughts were slurred. You heard the clinking of bottles as his footsteps neared the front door. ‘They better not be asking for more.’

He seemed to take the divorce well.

Before you could knock again he kicked down the door and pointed his shotgun straight at your face. In all honesty this was not the worst welcome you’ve been faced with.

“Good to see you too Filbrick,” you rolled your eyes.

“Mariam? What are you doing here? Did they send you to collect my money?” he stared you down through his sunglasses. His Jersey accent was slurred. You could see a few empty bottles in the dark hallway behind him.

“You honestly think debt collectors would hire an ex-hero for something like this?”

“People’ll do anything for cash,” he pointed the gun at you forcefully.

“Well drop it,” you said pushed the gun to the side and stared him down. “If I was here for your cash I would have made you give it to me.” You saw the gears turn in his head. “You paid them already didn’t you? So why would they come back?”

“Money,” he lowered his gun. He eyed you carefully before he spoke again. “Why are you here?”

“Someone snitched to an old ‘friend’ of mine and I’m here to find out if it was you,” you stared at him.

“Why not take a read?” he tapped his temple. He wore a mocking smirk.

“You were a sleep until now.”

“What? Can’t read what you like when someone's asleep?” he taunted.

“Hey dumbass, your mind is more scrambled than the eggs I had for breakfast this morning. This isn’t a matter of whether or not I’ll find out. It’s a matter of time. You can save us both the three hours it’ll take me to unscramble your mind by telling me here and now. ” you crossed your arms.

“Oh yeah? Go ahead. I can wait.” he smirked. He thought he had the advantage, which you had to admit was rather cute.

“Or, I can just call in the cops,” You reached into your pocket for your phone. “I’m sure a night in the slammer would help clear your mind up.”

“On what charges?” his back stiffened. His mind raced with possible defences. You noticed that he half remembered the phone number of the lawyer he used during the divorce. 

“Conspiracy, accessory to assault. Who knows. The guy takin’ away the goons Sirocco sent was in tears at the story I told him. I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help me get to the bottom of this.” you sneered.

“Alright, alright! Moses, woman you’re worse than your villains,” Filbrick huffed. “If it’ll calm you down I haven’t spoken to anyone wearing a mask about you since the divorce.”

“No one?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You wanna take a read and make sure I’m not lying?” He snarled. He took a step towards you, trying to use his broad frame to intimidate you.

“I will actually,” you said cooly.

You reached into his mind and read back what he told you. It felt like you were opening an old book you would spend hours reading when you were younger. But all that glee from back then was tainted by who these thoughts were attached to. Apart from some obviously misplaced anger at you could tell that he wasn’t lying. “Well well well. Looks like my little con-man could tell the truth for once.” you cooed in a forced sweet tone.

“Piss off.” he snarled

“Gladly,” you smiled.

* * *

You held your breath as you heard the dial tone of your phone. You hadn’t spoken to your son in six months. Being a college student could do that to someone. But you felt that there was more to it.

“Hello? Stanford Pines speaking,” you heard the deep voice of your son through your phone receiver. “Who is it?”

“I’ll give you three guess, first three don’t count,” you said into the phone.

“Ma-ma?” you heard the confusion in his voice. “I-er how are you? It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“About six months and 18 days,” you said.

“Has it been that long?” you heard him wince. “Sorry-I assignments and all that,” You didn’t need to be next to him to know that he was hiding something.

“Is that so?” you feigned surprise.

“Yeah-4th dimension calculus you know?” his voice was growing shakey.

“That sounds like a real kicker. But I know my little Ford can handle it, right?” You checked your nails as you spoked.

“Yes-definitely.”

“Well Stanford, I’m calling you up because I have a small favour to ask of you. If that’s okay? It’s nothing too major I promise,” you piled on the sugar as you spoke.

“What do you need Ma?” he asked. He sounded cautious, as if he was testing the water before agreeing to your request.

“An old ‘friend’ sent some trouble to me and I was wondering if you’d come into contact with anybody you might have been or is currently aligned as a villain?” He gasped. It was small. Ever so small. But you knew your son.

“Absolutely not.” he said.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I need you to be honest with me Stanford.”

“I promise you I haven’t been in direct contact with villains” Stanford said.

“Very well,” you smiled despite him not seeing you.

“Is that-is that all you wanted?”

“I’d also like to get a call every so often,” you joked.

“I’ll make sure to call you more often.” he promised.

You hung up the call and made your way back to your car. He didn’t tell you shit and was hiding something. So there was no better way to find out than in person.

The drive to was uneventful, save for the quick call you made to your old HQ. You didn’t need backup, but on the off chance things were going to go south you needed others to be sure of where you were. You stopped your car outside your son’s dorm building. It had been a good two years since you were last here, helping him move into the new place. His roommate seemed like such a good natured boy at the time, but now you weren’t so sure.

You practically flew up the stairs to his dorm room. You knocked on the door, but there was no response. Considering the time, most people would still be asleep, but you knew your son. You knocked again. There was a sound of shuffling from behind the door. You knocked a third time. If he didn’t open the door you would have had to force your way in. It had been a long while since you used your telekinesis to pick a lock, but you were certain it wouldn’t take long to get the job done.

Luckily you didn’t need to find out. The door opened just as you reached to knock for the fourth and final time. Stanford stood before you, a sheepish look in his face and a strange ruffle to his hair. As though something were hidden amongst his brown curls. His face was flushed but you weren’t in the mood to learn why.

“Did you tell Siroco?” You accused.

“What?” He was taken aback by the question.

“The list of people who know my private address can be counted on my hand Stanford,” You said. You took a step into his dorm room. You caught sight of his roommate lying in bed with his laptop on his lap. He seemed rather nonchalant despite your presence. His hair had a similar ruffle to that of Stanford’s.

“I swear Ma, I didn’t tell anyone,” Stanford said. He took a step back.

You don’t have time for games like this. Your son was a terrible liar, so you knew he was telling the truth. However someone gave your private information to your sworn enemy. You weren’t going to let this leak go unplugged.

“Sorry Stanford,” You muttered. You looked into his eyes and started to probe his mind. You felt yourself enter head first his mind. Your body stayed in place however your own mind was entering his, as though you were opening a book while standing up.

You hardly began to read his through before you felt a shock go through your entire body.

Suddenly you were back in the room, except you were lying on the ground. The shock was enough to throw you into the wall. Stanford stood over you, conflict coloured his face as he half reached out to help you up.

You held your side. The damage was superficial. You’ve had worse from less. Looking up you saw Stanford’s roommate wearing a smug smirk.

“Good Luck probin’ anythin’ Libra,” he said. His voice had a southern twang that was painfully familiar.

“You-“

“Like the head bands I made?” He asked. He lifted up his bangs, revealing a thin silver coloured band that went around his head. “So long’s Ford an’ I wear these we’re immune to yer mind readin’ powers,” He sounded as if he had you beat.

“Stanford? After all I’ve taught you, you sided with a villain?” you ask. You stared at your son but he looked away. You didn’t need your telepathy to know he was ashamed. 

“Now now, don’t go putting all the blame on Stanford here. He’s nothing more than an accessory to all this,” Stanford’s roommate said. He smiled concisely as he stared at you from across the room. “He’s just helping me test out an invention is all. Your arrival is pure coincidence.”

“Right, and I’m a monkey’s uncle.” you rolled your eyes. “I’ll just take them off and then we’ll be done here.”

You reached out with your mind. However, when you tried to grab hold of the boy’s headband, you coud not. It was as though a barrier had surrounded his head. Blocking your reach within a metre radius of him. You whipped your head around and tried the same with Stanford, only to be met with the same result.

“I spent a good month makin’ these things. They’re even immune to your telekinesis,” He puffed out his chest with pride.

“No really?” you said. He was proud; you’ve dealt with villains like this before. “But I wonder how long you can keep it on for.”

“They’re solar powered. So don’t think you can wait outside for the battery to run out,” He said. He was glaring at you.

“But you’ve got lives to live don’t you? Classes to take, food to eat. It’s only a matter of time until you slip up and I get what I need.” You needed a few more minutes to figure out the head band’s weakness.

Stanford was visibly uncomfortable from the exchange between you and his roommate. He looked from you to him and him to you. Unsure who’s side to take. His breathing started to hitch, and he began to swallow. For some reason his hair started to stand on end.

Suddenly, a light flashed in your mind. A wet light that was mug shaped.

“Tell me kid,” you said, looking to Stanford’s roommate.

“Please, call me Fiddleford. Ma raised me to be hospitable after all.”

“But not to be accommodating,” You said under your breath. Mentally you reached for the sink in the kitchenette behind him.

“I resent that remark,” Fiddleford said. “I reserve my right to not accommodate guests that don’t call ahead of time.”

“Somehow I doubt you weren’t expecting me Fiddlesticks,” you say. You needed him distracted. Stanford had crossed his arms and looked as if he wanted to run away. “So how do these do-hickey bands of yours work?”

“Considering there’s no way you could get rid of ‘em I guess it won’t hurt to talk about how I made ‘em. After all; they are a work of genius,” He smiled. He jumped to his feet and pulled out several sheets of blue paper from under his bed. “You see, I heard how you gave m-some villains trouble with your power to read their minds. So I thought to myself-” He started rambling away.

The tap in the kitchenette behind him started to stream steadily. Your mind reached for the upturned mug on the dish rack. It was odd carrying an empty mug, yours at home were often at least half full of coffee at any one time. You moved the mug under the tap and slowed the water. No need to make a splash now.

You kept your gaze on Fiddleford, while secretly watching the mug behind him. You stole a glance at Stanford, he seemed to have recovered from his pang of shame and was currently enamoured with the ramblings of Fiddleford. You definitely needed to talk about his taste in men at some point. But it seemed that he hadn’t noticed your plan.

As soon as the mug was half-filled you twisted the tap off and slowly moved the mug behind Fiddleford.

“And the best part about ‘em? I practically made ‘em at a profit! The parts were just stuff I found around campus. Sure they had been left behind by others. But if they really meant that much to them they would have-“

“Look out!” Stanford cried just as you threw the water at his roommate. He jumped forward, shielding fiddleford from the splash of water.

“Stanford!” Fiddleford cried. His conceit replaced with concern for your son’s wellbeing.   
  
This was the distraction you needed, acting quickly you picked up the several blueprints that the boy had spread across his bed and wrapped them around his arms. Trapping him in place and making it easier for you hold him in place with your mind. He opened his mouth to scream for help. But he wasn't fast enough.

You leapt forward and grabbed his pillow off the bed before shoving into his mouth in one smooth motion. He glared at you when he realised that he was trapped. You pulled off the head band from his head and threw it to the ground.

“Time to find out what you know Texas,” you said.

He said something into the pillow while you reached into this mind. You opened the book that were his thought and memories. Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket, Aged 22, majoring in engineering and a natural born technopath. It seemed that he was the rat who sold you out, to his sister, the new Sirocco. Not only that but his entire family seemed to be related to, If not outright composed of villains.

You observed the way he used computers and technology in his mind. It was fascinating, and if you weren’t currently holding him in place you’d probably have wanted to learn more about his powers. You left his mind and stepped back.

“What did you do to me?” Fiddleford cried. he jumped back, stumbling into Stanford. Who had been sitting on the floor, trying to get his hand band off.

“Just some light reading,” you said nonchalantly. You stepped on to Fiddleford’s headband, shattering it into many pieces. “Oops.”

“Hey!” Fiddleford said. “It took me a month to make that! At least I still have the blueprints.” he added under his breath.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that some of the blueprints got damaged from the splash attack you had prepared earlier. Instead you walked over and helped Stanford take his headband off.

“Wow you made this too tight,” You said.

“His sweating must have fried a circuit or something,” Fiddleford huffed. He picked up the scraps of his head band.

“You know, it would be a mighty shame if your family’s identities were brought to public light you know,” You said. You finally pulled the headband from Stanford’s head.

“What?” He glared at you. “You-so what. We can just move out, change our names. We’ve done so before.”

“I wouldn't doubt that,” you said. You pulled out a seat from the nearby desk with your mind and parked yourself in it. “But those last times were minor slip ups, names being said when they shouldn’t, an employee badge poking through a costume. But if every police station in the nation had not just your names, but face and fingerprints as well? I’d say you’d have a mighty hard time finding any hospitality outside of a prison cell.”

Fiddleford stared you down. His fists clenched tightly around the shards of headband he held.

“And the real kicker would be that person who did the whole family in would have been one of their own. I bet your sister would have many choice words for you when she finds out her villain career was cut short because her older brother stuck his nose in where it shouldn’t.” You smirked.

“So what now? I bend over and let you put me in a pair of cuffs? You tell the press and every cop from here to Timbuktu about me and my family? What?” Fiddleford spat. His face was slowly turning red.

“Calm down there Fiddleford,” you said. You brought out the chair from the other table and pushed it behind fiddleford so that he was sitting down as well. You also took the liberty of picking up your son and placing him on the nearby bed. Honestly, you didn’t know how people without telekinesis managed. “I’m not a hero anymore. Retried, remember? Or maybe those files you looked up on me were outdated?”  
  
“Cut to the chase,” Fiddleford huffed.

“I’m under no obligation to turn you in,” you said. “At the same time, your sister gave me quite the headache by sending some ‘trouble’ my way. And I think I speak for the two of us when I say that we want to avoid headaches.”

“So that’s what’s on the table,” Fiddleford said. “What do you want from me to help keep my ‘headache’ away?”

“I just ask one small favour,” You said. “You ‘forget’ my address and I’ll ‘forget’ that you’re related to an infamously villainous family.” 

“And how do I know that you won’t sell me out the second you step out that door?” he demanded.

“That’s a risk you're going to have to take. I can swear on my honour as a hero that no one will hear about your family from me. But how much that is worth is up to you.” You crossed your arms.

“I’ll take the risk,” Fiddleford said. He offered his hand with a scowl on his face.

“I knew we could come to an agreement,” you said with a sickly sweet smile.

You turned to Stanford and checked on him quickly. “Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m fine.” Stanford said uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry about causing a scene but-” you say. But a vision of red flames that you knew too well cuts you off. A page in stanford’s mind was filled with bitter laughter and red flames that surrounded by a brown haired man in a red hoodie.

“Thank you for being so nice with Fiddleford and for the visit,” Stanford said. He quickly pushed you out the door. “And, please go easy on Stan.”

* * *

  


It wasn’t strong, but your precognition has its uses. It warned you of Stanford’s roommate not being the best of people. Not enough to tell you that he was the son of your arch nemesis. That wasn’t anything new. The lack of detail that is, not the villain-roommate; that was definitely new. A bigger hint would have been nice, but the best you got were flashes of future events and blurred colours. Although the latter might just be from all the coffee you drink.   
  
So when your precognition warned you that a trio of powerful figures would be attacking a bank, you knew that the confrontation with your other son was coming up soon. With a couple of calls you found out what areas Sirrocco and her gang had been attacking, which just to happen to be near one of the larger banks in the county. You got ready for for one more mission.

You walked through the automatic doors of the WestCom Bank. You vividly remember the walls from your vision, this was the place. Now you just needed to wait. Luckily your old-ladyness can be used to your advantage. You just hoped the poor teller wouldn't resent you for asking for more detail on every little thing they said.

Thankfully you didn’t need to worry. As soon as your turn to speak with the teller arrived, you felt the presence of three people from outside the bank. Before you could read their minds a loud crash filled the bank, and the wall broke down.

A strong wind you knew all too well pushed at you and the rest of the customers in the bank, shoving you against the opposite wall.

“Nobody move!” from the hole in the wall stood three figures. Young and fit they stared greedily into the bank. They wore masks that obscured their faces. Respectively they wore costumes that gave a hint to what their powers might be.

“Everybody on the ground,” The man in the blue mask stepped forward, his costume was blue, with accents that looked like waves of the ocean. His mind read easily enough, Lute McGucket, younger brother to Fiddleford, currently under the Alias of Riptide.

Beside him was Angie, keeping herself afloat with her winds and gleefully holding on to the alias of her mother, Sirocco. She wore a light green mask and complimentary costume, her costume was covered in swirlling patterns that matched the ones on her cape. Lastly stood the figure in red. His voice as gravely as you remember and spirit aflame as it always had been. Stanley stood alongside Sirocco and Riptide, his alias Flashfire.  
  
Lute swung his arms in a sweeping motion around the room, finishing by crossing them over his chest. You watched as the water from the water coolers, people’s water bottles and even the sweat from their brows collected together into two large orbs on either side of the man.

He threw his arms forward and the two orbs of water followed. In a flash the orbs had turned into floating currents of water that went through the pocket and purse of every person in the bank.

“And don’t even think about callin’ no officers or heroes,” Lute said. “Sirocco and Flashfire already cut all your phone lines.”

Stan and Angie walked over to the nearest teller desk, opening a hessian sack.

“You’re money, all of it,” Stan said gruffly. His voice as gravely as you remember. Seemed that he kept on smoking despite your warnings.

“And make sure it ain’t anything traceable by the cops,” Angie added.

“Yeah, if I hear any sirens you’re seeing red,” Stand added. The teller nodded fearfully as she started shoveling money into the sack.

You looked around the bank and saw the terror filled faces that decorated the wall like a poster for the world’s worst concert. Mothers hushed their crying children, teens convincing one another it wouldn’t be worth going against super villains. With no communications to the outside world, it seemed as though you were these people’s last hope.

Lute walked towards a group of teenagers to your left. As he did you scanned the room, casting a net of hands with your mind sizing up the furniture that Sirocco had pushed aside. The desks were bolted to the floor, however some quick work with the bolts could fix that, but that’d take time to set up. The loose chairs and potted plants would have to do for now

“What do you want?” Snarled a dark skinned girl. She had at least three sets of her friend’s hands on her shoulders. A quick glance into her mind told you her name was Layla.

“You and all your chum’s wallets,” Lute opened his hessian sack and smirked at her.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Before tell you, let me ask ya. Have you ever been held underwater at the pool?”

An orb of water wrapped around her head before she could reply. You watched in terror as her hands tried in vain to reach for her neck. Her friends jumped up, trying to pull her out of the water.

You didn’t have time to wait. Using your mind you picked up a chair and slammed it into Lute; breaking his concentration and freeing Layla.

“What-” Lute was cut off by someone bursting through the bank wall.

“Hold it bad guys!” You pitied the person paying for repairs. The hero stood tall and proud, sporting a green spandex suit that looked like it was trying to look like flannel without looking tacky. You decided not to judge its success in that regard. He wore a wrestler’s mask that obscured the top half of his face and his hair.

“Boyish Man?” The villain trio said in unison. His mind told you his real name was Daniel Corduroy.

“The one and only!” He jumped forward and full bodied tackled Lute. He knocked the villain through a bank teller’s desk.

“Really? They couldn’t send someone cool like Arachnia-Person?” Angie asked. She floated lazily in the air as she watched Lute and wrestle with Boyish Man.

“Budget cuts I bet,” Stan smirked.

“I was the nearest guy here,” Boyish Man, said. His voice was too loud, you questioned if he had an inside voice. “Backup is gonna be coming soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Stan said.

You picked yourself up. Ready to stop these villains here and now. However, Angie shot a blast of wind at you and the civilians in the bank.

‘Don’t need more casualities than necessary,’ she thought. You’d have commended her for caring about not having a body count if your back wasn't crying out in pain.

You slammed into the wall just as Lute flung Dan towards Stan. Before the two could crash into each other, Lute caught him in mid-air with his water. Lute pointed his hands forwards and clenched his fist, making shackles of water around Dan’s limbs.

There goes your back-up. You needed a plan B. And a visit to your chiro.

“Now let’s see what’s under the mask here,” Flashfire pulled back Dan’s mask, revealing a full head of curly ginger hair as well as a pair of heavily freckled cheeks. “Oh sweet Moses you’re a kid!”

“I’m 21!” Dan cried. He struggled in vain against the water shackles.

“You don’t look-oho! What do we have here?” Stan’s eyes opened wide and he picked up Dan’s chin.

“What’s he got?” Angie asked, she floated over to Stan’s side. “is it scales? Is his power secretly being a lizard man?”

“No, but we’ve got something almost as fun,” Stan set one of his fingertips on fire.

“Oh my God! Are those tiny little beard hairs?” Angie started cackling.

You looked around the room for something to use. All the furniture in the room was against the back wall. The villains would see anything you throw at them straight away. But, the broken desk by Lute gave you an idea for your plan B.

The villain in question was dusting himself off after his tussle with Dan. You spied a box of baby wipes that had fallen out of someone’s stroller. Working quickly you tugged out several wipes with your mind and sent them Lute’s way, covering up his eyes and mouth. He stumbled for a moment. Using the distraction that was Dan’s deafening screams, you picked up the desk and threw it into Lute, shoving him into the wall near you.

Turning back to Dan’s situation you could see him crying out in pain as Stan dragged his burning finger towards his cheek.

“Let’s see how close of a shave he’ll get if you burned off his hair.” Angie goaded

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have the chance to find out as you stood up. “Stanley Daniel Pines. What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” You cried.

Your son’s jaw fell.

“Ma?”   


There was a crash from behind him as Angie fell from the air current that had been keeping her afloat.

“Libra?” Angie and Dan asked in unison. Angie stared at you with hunger while Dan seemed star-struck and relieved.

“Young man I asked you a question.” You ignored them and marched right up to Stan.

“I- er, well ya see.”

“I thought I raised you better than this,” that was the wrong thing for you to say.

“And I thought heroes cared about everyone,” He stepped forward. You could see a different kind of flame igniting from within him.

You couldn’t get a word in as he marched towards you. “You left me to the streets. You had months, week, YEARS to bring me back. You had that fancy shmansy hero guild that could find a girl that got lost in a crowd but you couldn’t be bothered to find your own son? You coulda gotten Ford to bring me back at any second. But you didn’t,” he pointed at you rudely with every word.

“You know what I’ve done in that time? I’ve pulled shit that would make me count as a villain for sure. So I thought why not go all the way. And For the first time in years I finally feel that I’ve got people who care about me.”

You were taken aback. But you expected this. It was true, so very very true. “Look, Stanley,” you said. “I wasn’t mother of the year. I fucked up, I fucked up royally and let my son live in the streets. But what happened happened. I can’t undo the past. But I promise you I’ll do everything I can to help you with your future,” you offered him your hand and loving smile.

Your son gives a dark chuckle. “a clean start? Ma it’s way too late for that,” He stepped back and helped Angie up. “I made my choice.”

Something in the pit of your stomach twisted as the words left his lips. He was right, you focused more on your prestige as a hero, your pride came first and it was coming back to bite you at the worst possible time. But you didn’t have time to deal, if you had time to mope then you had time to try and fix this.

“Is this really what you want to do with your life?” you asked. You pointed out your arm to your current audience of scared and confused civilians. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that my free spirit and live with hurting people left and right?”

“Oh please, give it a week and they’d forget this even happened,” Stanley rolled his eyes.

“Seriously?” you would have said more but Angie had other plans.

“I don’t have time for this. Boyish’s friends are going to be here soon. ” Angie said. She readied another blast of wind to get rid of you.

Instinct took over as you jumped back.

“If you’re gonna be a villain, then I’ll treat you like one,” before you could enter your fighting stance, Angie pushed you back against the wall with a gust of wind.

“Come on now Granny Libra, you don’t wanna break your hip,” Angie taunted. “It’s a three on two. Just give up and you won’t have to leave in an ambulance.”

“You sure about that?” you smirked.

The water based chains that held Dan in place collapsed back into spheres and began to fly wildly around the room.

“Wait, shit. Where’s Lu-” Stan caught sight of his second partner in crime currently being pinned against the far wall. His eyes and mouth covered in baby wipes.

“Boyish Man! Cover me,” you said. You placed your hand on Lute’s head and felt yourself step out of your body and into Lute’s. It felt like slipping into a one piece costume. He initially put up a fight, his rattled mind from your attack made him an easy prey. The book of his mind was put to a close for now and yours was open in its place.

“Don’t touch him,” Angie cried. She flew straight for the two of you. You thrusted your fist and a sphere of water slammed into her mid-flight.

You peeled off the baby wipes from your face in time to see the betrayed faces of the villainous duo. 

“No, Lute! What did you do to him you witch?” Angie demanded. She struggled before she picked herself up and marched towards you.

“Just evening the fight out,” you smirked and took a step forward in Lute’s body. You couldn’t move too far from your own, lest you upset your control over him. But with his powers and Dan watching over your body, that wouldn’t be a concern. You copied his earlier motions. You waved your hands around the room and observed how the water followed your direction, as though they were an extension of yourself. You felt a weight in your hands as you guided the water around.

“I was iffy about fightin’ ya Ma, but if you’re gonna pulling shit like this I might not feel bad about this later,” Stanley ran for you. He easily socked your jaw with his patented left hook.

You fell to the ground and felt your grip on Lute’s mind weaken. You took a quick breath to steady yourself before dealing with your son.

“I wanted to give you a fair chance, but by the looks of things, you’re about as stubborn as you’ve always been,” You said. You hooked your arm and clenched your fist. A ball of water wrapped around Stan’s head pulling him off the ground.

“Stan!” Angie cried as she ran over to his side. 

“You’re not getting off easily either missy,” you said. You reached your other hand and clenched your fist. Another sphere of water trapped Angie’s head. “Now just stay put for a minute or so while I get you ready for the police van,”

You had hoped that the pair would lose consciousness and this would be an easy case of handing them over to the authorities. But it looked like your free spirit wasn’t one to play his role. He tried to set his hair ablaze on what little oxygen was in the water around him. When that failed he set the rest of his body ablaze.

If he kept up with his plan the water could evaporate, but he’d probably boil his face before that happened. You took initiative and flipped him over, so that his burning body was pointed upwards. He’d leave a smolder on the roof but that can be fixed, your son’s face might not.

In that moment of distraction Angie had summoned up the last of her strength to summon another gale to tear apart the water holding her. The water splattered across the room. She fell to the ground gasping. You gathered the water to imprison her again, but she pulled another gale and freed Stan. You didn’t have time to recover.

“Cheap Trick.” Angie said. She flew towards you and kicked Lute right in the chest. Both the wind, and you, were knocked out of him.

You tumbled back into your own mind. You didn’t have time to adjust to returning. You couldn’t respond when Angie made her tornado large enough to push you, and the rest of the occupants of the bank, away. Dan caught you with ease. You glanced down and saw that he had forced his feet into the ground.

“Better luck next time Libra,” Angie teased. You watched as she pulled the bags of money from the ground with her winds and flew them out of the hole in the wall the trio made.

“See you around Ma,” Stanley sighed. He picked up Lute before jumping into Angie’s wind current and followed her out.

You heard sirens outside as well as the sound of multiple feet landing on the ground. You wanted to cry out, he was right there. You almost had him again; you could have fixed it all. But once again you ruined things for your son. You fell out of Dan’s arms and punched the ground. The feeling of uselessness welled up inside of you, like a balloon trying to squash out your organs. 

Dan knelt next to you and pressed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We’ll get them next time.” He boomed. A hopeful smile spread across his face despite his smoking cheek.

“Thanks kid,” You say.

Dan offer you his hand and helped you to your feet.

You were really looking forward to the free time from your retirement. Well at least your evenings plans were easily sorted out. Your precognition warned you that it would be a cool night, in contrast to this morning’s forecast. Perhaps this evening you could bundle up with a nice hot cup coffee and stare at a wall while rethinking everything.

You might have failed Stan before, but you weren't going to give up. This will probably require some assistance from your hero guild. But if you were to prove to Stan that you meant what you said that you wanted to help him than you’d have to everything you could.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you all think? Mariam's in quite a fix huh? 
> 
> To close off I'd like to give a thousand thanks to my beta and Editor Redwoodroots. If it was not for them then this work would have been much weaker. So, thank you very much for your support and positivity, you truly made me look forward to working on this fic and fixing up problems that showed up in it.


End file.
